The Distant Joke

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2026-08-24 00:09:28 -

The Distant Joke

The sky over Oakhaven was not black, but a bruised purple, the color of old blood drying on linen, and Elias clutched the shards of his hand-mirror so tightly that the glass cut into his palms, mixing with the soot and the sweat of his flight. He ran not toward the horizon, but away from the screaming, driven by a single, frantic desire: to reach Martha in Millbrook before the plague, which had...

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